


Aligned

by Nitzer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, enough bad words to be t, pretentious stuff about stars and space, some commentary on idol culture, some other ships if you squint, the tiniest bit of angst, this is almost as much about the others as jeonghan and s coups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitzer/pseuds/Nitzer
Summary: "We don’t have the time or energy to deny the millionth ‘marriage’ accusation. Neither of us even bother. "Or five times everyone thinks Jeonghan and S.Coups are a thing and then one time (almost) no one is there and they are a thing.





	Aligned

**Author's Note:**

> i was working on an angsty jeongcheol thing and i wrote this in between it to make me feel better also i didn't mean to mention literally everyone except for the8 (he's my babe) i honestly just kinda choose side characters at random

1.

Jeonghan was pretty even when he was drenched in sweat and had never even had make-up on that day. Because Jeonghan was always pretty. Jeonghan was prettier than spring flowers and Seoul architecture and any model (and I found myself comparing him to every one of those things on some occasion). He was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. Easily. Ever since he walked into the practice room and effortlessly stole the “angel” title from Wonwoo, I knew that Jeonghan was going to be good for our popularity. I had to get over the brief, stumbling moment of being struck by his beauty but I knew he was good for us.

And he was good for _us_ , good for Seventeen, good for the younger kids, good for the group. He was gonna kill me, though, maybe Jisoo too. He was hell wrapped up in the most beautiful and tempting package. He wasn’t terribly heavy though, a tiny silver lining to the situation. It was the end of a long practice and it was late and we were finally done but we had the walk home still ahead of us. Jeonghan may have looked like an angel but he negged at each and every one of us like an annoying little sibling and wiggled out of as much work as he could.

Jeonghan was too pretty for carrying his own things and walks home so he appointed those duties to me the second he was comfortable enough with the group. I wanted to be mad at the added weight on me but it wasn’t that much weight and at some point having Jeonghan on my back became a comforting signal that I was heading home instead of nuisance. Drained of his last bit of energy, Jeonghan never jumped on me after practice, it was always an awkward sort of wiggle until I gave in and hooked my hands under his thighs. And it was either affection, him nuzzling contentedly into the space between my shoulder blades, or him wiping the sweat off his face into my shirt. I always felt like it was affection but I was biased.

Jeonghan had nothing left in the practice room except the hair ties and bobby pins that were already messily shoved into his hair and the only thing I bothered to take back to the dorms was a water bottle. I was towards the last of the pack, knowing I wouldn’t sleep until all the kids were in bed anyway. I could afford to lag. Our gag trio was lagging too, caught up in some joke or game as always.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan whined, catching my eye and even though he was only one word in I already didn’t like where it was going, “how come I never get a piggyback ride home?” He blinked his eyes at me pleadingly. Seungkwan’s puppy dog eyes were much less effective than his sheer persistence and I often forgot that he was one of our youngests with his endless drive.

Jeonghan, somewhere between half-conscious and not conscious at all, bared blunt incisors and rested them threateningly against my shoulder. “Don’t you dare put me down.” It was a mumble but it was still somehow threatening.

Soonyoung found the whole thing highly amusing, eyes already twinkling with laughter. “Leave the honeymooners alone.” He told the younger. “They’re more fucking married than me and Seokmin have ever even _pretended_ to be.”

“I bet I’m lighter!” Seunngkwan teased, but relented without his back up.

“We’ll find out who’s lighter when I’m dunking your little gremlin ass into the trash.” Jeonghan muttered and I figured he was closer to unconscious because he was usually sweet and smothering with the kids and not threatening them.

I dump Jeonghan in a slightly grumbly, but mostly soft and pliant heap on the couch when we get to the dorms and he finds his way into the line for the shower at some point. I’m always last to shower because there are leader privileges and then there are leader duties. The living room got quiet quickly, everyone finding their way into the shower and then to bed. Only the last few stragglers were left when Soonyoung flopped onto the couch next to me. His body was all loose and casual but his eyes weren’t as sunny as normal. “Can we talk for a second? Like leader-to-leader?” Soonyoung never tossed around the “leader” title, using his endless charisma and sunny personality to lead dance line instead of any real authority.

“Yeah, of course.” I was on edge with the slight tension Soonyoung was radiating, not used to having to have _talks_ with him.

He stopped being able to keep up the casual façade, playing with his fingers nervously. “You and Jeonghan have a thing right? Like you _are_ a thing? I’ll tell Seungkwan to lay off for good then because it’s kinda fucked up to tease you for that.”

All that escaped me was a short and sharp snort. “No,” I told him, softer laughter finding its way out. “We’re not a ‘thing.’ The only thing we have going is me carrying him and all his shit around everywhere.”

“Oh,” it was soft and cute and he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Soonyoung,” I said firmly, not exactly my “leader” tone but close, “I can’t hide _snacks_ in this dorm, there’s no way I could hide a whole relationship.”

His lips are pursed, eyebrows furrowed slightly, obviously thinking something through but Wonwoo snaps a towel at his head before anything comes of it. “Your turn, get in before the sun starts rising.” He laughs.

Soonyoung’s posture drops again—casual and tired and all the tension melts from his body. He doesn’t have any parting words for me. Seungkwan stops making jokes about me and Jeonghan entirely, though, so I guess he never really was fully convinced.

2.

I spent at least the first three days settling in with Seventeen staring at Seungcheol’s mouth. I tried not to be obvious, I didn’t really mean anything by it yet. It was just a weird mouth, all prominent gums, the lips pushed out in a way I’d never seen before. It was the weirdest mouth I’d ever seen. And it took me at least three days of watching him to decide that it was actually a cute mouth.

The rest of the staring at Seungcheol was just because I liked catching his eye. Over loud dinners and car rides and exhausting practices he would sometimes send me looks of fond exasperation with the younger members. Something he really only gave me, as the second oldest, the “mom” like they sometimes called me. And the sheer exhaustion that I could see settle into Seungcheol’s bones, the taxing effect that his endless drive and passion had on his body, made me deeply appreciate my spot as second oldest. But I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else either, with the knowing glances that Seungcheol only shared with me, with the preferential treatment I could squeeze out of him when no one was looking.

Soonyoung and Seokmin are reminiscing about collecting Yugioh cards when they were younger, talking about trying to play without the cards, improvising off what they can remember or make up. It’s the trainee practice room and we’re all waiting around for the staff to finalize a mission for the day. I settled off to the side with Jisoo, not exactly ready to get into whatever the kids were getting into.

Seungcheol catches my eye over the kids and over Jisoo, rolling them fondly. It’s always fond, he defends the kids’ nonsense to anyone who even looks disapprovingly. And I laugh back at him, just as amused. Jisoo follows the line of my eyes to Seungcheol and elbows my chest. “Save the fanservice for the cameras.”

I feigned hurt. “I’m just looking at him.” I defended. “Are you saying what those two are doing isn’t ridiculous?” I nodded towards Seokmin and Soonyoung.

“You’re looking at him like he hung the moon in the sky.” The saying _feels_ foreign, and I’m not immediately sure what he’s trying to say. “You’re making heart eyes.” He corrects, looking bashful. He’s not known for stumbling over his words ever and it feels almost like a privilege to watch him mix up his idioms.

“We’re friends.” I shrug. “He makes me smile.”

“ _Friends_?” Jisoo looks disbelieving. “I’ve been watching you two make heart eyes at each other since you got here.”

I fling unfamiliarly long hair over my shoulder dramatically. “Of course, I’m irresistible.” He gives me a pity laugh. “We’re just getting along. What? Are you jealous?” I press teasing fingers into his ribs.

He squirms away. “You two are acting like honeymooners, I’m just being observant here.”

“I’m not trying to get into some workplace romance and start a drama here.” But there’s another soft “apu” from Jisoo’s phone and he’s back in a chatroom full of the word “Joshua” and English I can’t make out. And the whole thing seems forgotten.

Seungcheol catches my eye again and sticks his tongue out. I send him finger hearts. I don’t look at anyone else like I look at Seungcheol, I guess. But he saves those soft and fond and exasperated looks for me and me alone. So I guess I’m just returning the favor.

3.

It was another episode of Andromeda, Seungkwan and Soonyoung firmly in charge of what was happening in front of the camera. And I wouldn’t change it. Seungkwan lived off of attention almost purely and Soonyoung always had too many thoughts buzzing around in his head to not be getting up to some shit. The fans loved them and they loved the fans. I was just playing MC behind the camera, Jeonghan beside me, criticizing me but refusing to help.

“You gotta tell them when they’re not funny, corrective behavior.” He reminded me, a smile playing on his lips and I know he’s doing it just to mess with me.

“They don’t listen to me.” I say away from the microphone. “You gotta do it.” Jeonghan is half-folded onto the tablet in front of us, head cradled in the bend of his elbow, face tilted up towards me. I’m leaning into him to lean away from the mic and it melts me immediately. I can’t keep up the playful teasing, looking directly into the face of an angel. Jeonghan doesn’t look like a teasing imp anymore either, he looks like a heavenly angel, a soft and sleepy smile gracing his lips. He blows some of his fringe out of his eyes, looking absolutely adorable. “Is that bothering you?” I ask, dropping my MC duties as Soonyoung and Seungkwan are doing fine without me.

He shrugs. “I don’t hate it. It just keeps getting in my eyes.”

“You want me to pull it back?” The request isn’t entirely for me (even though it is at least mostly for me, any moments of intimacy with Jeonghan were for me). I’m doing a favor for Jeonghan, really.

“I got it.” He waved off, snapping a hair tie onto his wrist.

“It has to be easier when you can actually see what you’re doing.” I argue.

He looks at me and it is a long, long moment of just looking. I feel like there are emotions I don’t have names for and a million swirling milky ways in his eyes. And then he relents. “Okay, okay.” He dumps the hair tie and some bobby pins in my hand.

I run fingers through his hair, gathering as much into my other hand as I can and I see goosebumps rising on his arms. I wonder if it’s from my touch or just from the touch. I’m about to snap the first loop of the ponytail when Mingyu shows up for his spot in the next segment of Andromeda. “I can do Jeonghan’s hair.” He offers, holding out his hands expectantly.

“It’s ok, they don’t need an MC right now and I got it.” I tell him, not ready to just hand this experience over to Mingyu (even if he is objectively better).

“Really,” he insists, “it’s kinda my job.” If we based jobs on how good we were at something, everything would be Mingyu’s job. But he seems to genuinely enjoy playing around with and fixing the other member’s hair. It’s a job that he willingly takes.

I feel Jeonghan shifting his body back into mine. “It’s okay,” he joins in, “I’m not going on broadcast or anything. Seungcheol can do it.”

“Jeonghan is playing favorites.” Hansol sing-songs from where he followed Mingyu in.

“Jeonghan is always playing favorites.” Chan snorts from behind Hansol.

Jeonghan gets a glint in his eye. “Chan-ah,” he holds out one of his hands and forces one of mine open-palmed up too, “who’s your favorite hyung?”

Chan sighs. “I’m not choosing a favorite parent.”

“We’re not your parents.” Jeonghan scoffed.

“Close enough, you two are already married.” Hansol mutters under his breath.

Jeonghan feigns a hurt look for a second before he catches sight of my face and then we are both crumpled in laughter. We don’t have the time or energy to deny the millionth ‘marriage’ accusation. Neither of us even bother. “We’re still filming!” Seungkwan yells from in front of the camera and everyone makes their way onto the set.

My hands find their way back into Jeonghan’s hair, restarting the ponytail. Jeonghan turns towards me and whispers, right into my ear to avoid disturbing the broadcast again. “You can take your time with it. You’re doing fine.”

The intimacy of the whole situation—how close he was and the fact that my hands were still in his hair—made my skin feel prickly and over-sensitive. But I still thread my fingers slowly and steadily through his hair, gathering hair and then reconsidering it. By the time Soonyoung and Seungkwan are doing their goodbyes for Andromeda I still haven’t settled on a good ponytail and Jeonghan’s hair is still loose between my fingers. My hands haven’t left his hair once and Jeonghan never once complained that I never finished.

4.

Seungcheol took care of us and when I remembered, when I could, when it got bad I took care of him. So it’s no surprise that I’m the one that finds him in the kitchen way too early in the morning, eyes red-rimmed with lack of sleep and tears. It twists my heart, tears gathering in my eyes too. I hate seeing Seungcheol like this—crumpled and defeated, finally reaching the breaking point of his impressive strength. And it takes away my sense of security, not trusting anyone to protect and take care of the kids (and me) besides him.

“Cheol-ah,” it’s as soft as I can make my voice. He locks eyes with me and it makes me feel so much worse. The bags under his eyes are purpling and he looks fragile. “Can’t sleep?” I ask, running my hand through the short hairs on the back of his head. I don’t want to ask what’s wrong. I know what’s wrong, I know that any aspect of the life he’s living would kill me.

“You’d think the exhaustion would be enough.” It’s a sad and empty laugh I get out of him. And I have never felt so burdened and so reliant and so soft towards anyone in my life.

“You want something?” I asked, referring to tea or warm milk or a snack. I know that Mingyu’s in charge of the kitchen but I could at least try for Seungcheol.

“Yeah, for promotions to be over already.” He is blunt and almost bitter and it’s no longer a joke about being tired, in the kitchen at some ungodly hour, his eyes looking like they do. I know this is something he would never say to Jihoon or Wonwoo or even Soonyoung or Jisoo. It’s just for me. I’m his chosen confidant.

I figure I can heat up some milk for him anyway. Because I’m out of words and I don’t know what else to do for him but doing nothing isn’t an option. I shuffle into the seat next to him again and he leans into me, head on my shoulder, face buried in my hair. The tears have at least stopped. “Hey,” it’s soft which is a step up from sharp but he still sounds so fucking vulnerable and I would do anything to make him feel any better. “Do you like having the long hair?”

It’s not something I would’ve chosen if I wasn’t here. Probably just because I never would’ve thought of it. The constant comments about me being or looking like a girl from interviewers and hosts don’t help either but I tend not to care for _anything_ they say about us anyway. I don’t hate it, though, I recognize that it looks good and the comments probably would’ve happened even if I never had the long hair. “It’s different.” I settle on. “Do you like it?”

“Why does that matter?” He says, breath tickling at my neck and blowing strands of hair around. “It’s your hair. I like it if you do.”

It’s weird to feel like I have any control over my body at this point. It is so foreign, I didn’t even realize I was missing it until Seungcheol plopped it back in my lap. We’re idols, our bodies are for public consumption, not for us. “You’re the leader, that’s why I care.”

“Mingyu’s in charge of hair.” He sounds tired and I figure the milk was a waste. “I just want you guys to be happy and safe.”

Very quietly, so I’m not sure if he can hear or not, I whisper, “you make me feel safe and happy.” A silence stretches out over us and I’m convinced he didn’t hear me or he fell asleep on my shoulder. I gently push him off my shoulder. “Keep me company tonight?” I offer the meager space in my bed because I’d offer anything I think would help.

He nods and shuffles back to our shared room while I dump the milk. I run into Jun once I’m done. He either stayed up too late or got up too early, it could be either with him. “What happened between you and Seungcheol?” He asks it isn’t accusing but it isn’t neutral either.

“Why do you think I did something?” I narrow my eyes, suddenly sharp, all my sympathy already dumped into Seungcheol.

“Why else would he leave your room looking miserable?” I can feel him backing down. He’s always been bad at fights. “It looked like a little lovers’ spat.” He explains.

“We’re not ‘lovers.’” I sigh, putting air quotes around the word. “He’s just stressed.”

“Oh,” Jun looks genuinely surprised for once. “I really thought…” He trails off. “I’m just glad you’re taking care of him anyway.” His smile is too bright and sunny for this hour. I just nod and keep going. I find Seungcheol curled up in my bed, reading the invitation correctly.

“Where were you?” He mumbled, looking much better but still small and fragile enough that I wanted to wrap my whole body around him like some kind of physical barrier against a psychological threat.

“Ran into Jun.” I explain shortly. “He wants you to feel better.” I slide into my bed and the lack of space forces us together (we would’ve eventually gravitated towards the same spots regardless though) and I am pressed up against him.

“I don’t need to ‘feel better.’” He grumbled. “I’m fine.” We’re already settled in, though, and he seems to only be barely clinging onto consciousness next to me. I stroke through his hair once, appeasing him, appeasing myself. And I feel safe here. I, stupidly, feel safer with Seungcheol pressed up against me than I do just sharing a room with. I feel happy too. I love Seungcheol, I realize laying down next to him, covering all his fragile parts as best I can. I’ll sort out what that actually means—what this ‘love’ is—some other time, though.

5.

Jeonghan may be an actual angel on this earth, visually, but in every other aspect he is just a couch potato. Not even that. I don’t think there is a cute nick name for what Jeonghan is. He’s just limp and sleepy log that falls asleep whenever and where ever he thinks he can get away with it.

It wasn’t a terribly bold move to fall asleep on the couch in our dorms during a late morning when we only had an evening schedule. I’d seen Jeonghan attempt to, and actually, sleep in much weirder places. Mostly everyone had taken the rare treat of free time to go out for food or to shop but I watched Jeonghan slowly and gracelessly drag himself from his bed that morning and dump his body directly on the couch before falling asleep again. It was annoying in some way, I guess, Jeonghan’s pension for just sleeping when we could be _doing_ something. And it was weird with all the energy I knew he could exude on stage and during broadcast and even sometimes in the vans on the way home, teasing and yelling over the other members. It was endearing in some other way too, the way he just curled up anywhere like a cat for a quick (or day-long) nap.           

I followed Jeonghan’s lead, figuring a day of relaxing wouldn’t _hurt_ me. I squeezed myself into the spot on the couch that Jeonghan wasn’t curled up on and put on some cooking show on low volume (because I knew I wouldn’t really be paying attention to it and also I had an _angel_ sleeping next to me that I couldn’t disturb) and caught up on some stupid app game that Soonyoung had convinced me to download ages ago.

I was more levels into the game than I have ever intended to be when I heard someone fucking around in the kitchen. I figured it was Jihoon, he usually stayed behind when the rest of us left the dorms. He was not always great with people and keeping his actions and tones in check took a toll on him. So he spent off time with us because we were all more than used to him coming off harsh or bitter when he wasn’t really paying attention.

He stumbled out of the kitchen, tripping over the too-long legs of pajama pants that _couldn’t_ be his. He grumbled something frustrated and hard to hear under his breath as he passed through the living room. I had to assume it wasn’t a great morning off for our vocal team leader. I felt my hand unconsciously slide from where it’d be resting in Jeonghan’s hair (which I honestly don’t remember putting there either) to an almost protective hold on his shoulder.

“Chill,” Jihoon almost growled, “I’m just looking for my charger. I’m not trying to wake up your _wifey_.”

I was pretty used to Jihoon just forgetting that he was talking to a person and not a robot or a machine or something and sounding like he hated me. But there was more bitterness than I expected packed into his little body that day. “I’m chilling.” I ceded, fighting with Jihoon never had and never would be worth it. And I knew once he realized how unpleasant he was being he’d feel bad, maybe he’d even apologize.

Soonyoung slid down the hallway into the living room on loudly-patterned, fuzzy socks. His face dropped into confusion once he saw Jihoon. “Who pissed in your cheerios?”

Jihoon sent a biting glare his way. “ _What_?”

Soonyoung scoots up to Jihoon, pinching at his cheeks and using an annoyingly high-pitched voice with him. “Is my Jihoonie having a bad morning?”

Jihoon slaps his hands away. “That shit’s gross.” He says, tilting his head to where me and Jeonghan are on the couch. “But what you just did should be considered a war crime.”

Soonyoung just laughs. “Leave those two alone, just because you’re miserable this morning doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.” And he continues his slide to the kitchen, uninterrupted.

“I already have to deal with their sappy shit constantly.” Jihoon grumbles, ripping his phone charger from the outlet and stalking off. “I share a fucking room with them.”

Jeonghan shifts under my hands, wiggling up the couch until his head is resting in my lap. “What did I miss?” His voice isn’t as delicate as I’m used to, laced with sleep and slight confusion.

“Jihoon gagging at us and Soonyoung.” I shrug.

Jeonghan rubs the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”

I check for him. “Not even two yet. You don’t have to be up if you don’t wanna.”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?” His hand rests softly on the side of my face. “My loyal and loving Cheolie.” He coos. His hand drops and he starts laughing at himself. “Think that would’ve made Jihoon gag?”

“Absolutely.” I push some of his hair out of his face. “This would too.”

He gives me one more blinding smile before turning on his side—still in my lap, still very close—and looking at the TV. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, I’m not really paying attention.” I settle the remote onto his chest.

“Cooking?” He questions. “You learned anything?” I laughed and shook my head. “Figured not.” He switches the channel to some competition show. He’s distracted for a moment and my hands are back on my phone, back to the game I really shouldn’t have spent this much time on. “Hey,” he whispers very, very quietly.

“Hm?” I respond.

“You can put your hands back in my hair if you want.” He’s not making eye-contact with me and it feels almost bashful. Jeonghan has never been fragile or unsure with me, always taking what he wants without a second thought (often without asking). So I put a tentative hand on his head, smoothing down stray hairs.

Soonyoung slides back into the living room, several bags of chips in his arms. “I know Jihoon was like _gagging_ ,” he laughs, “but that is cute as shit.”

Jeonghan laughs too and then I’m laughing and my hands are out of Jeonghan’s hair and resting lightly on his chest. “Should we just give up on correcting them?” Jeonghan suggests. “They’re always gonna catch us looking like a married couple anyways.”

I shrug. “The fans only fuel them, I don’t think there’s anything we can do to mitigate it at this point.”

“Good,” he smiles, “can you keep running your fingers through my hair then? You’re the best at it.”

I internally preen at the title for just a moment. I don’t think the other member’s teasing ever stopped us from being close and touchy and having jokes that didn’t make sense to anyone else anyway. But it’s nice to have any remaining walls knocked down, to be free to touch whenever we want, to just accept that the others are going to fake gag at us sometimes. Jeonghan’s hair is soft (I know, we all know, it’s one of his charming points after all) and I see goosebumps rising on his skin again (and this time I know it’s from _my_ touch specifically) and when everything in the dorm settles and there’s a quiet moment in the show I hear the tiniest, happy little sigh escape his mouth.

+1.

The cold didn’t bring me into Seungcheol’s bed but it was an easy thing to hide behind (not that our affection ever seemed subtle or unrecognizable to those around us anyway), replacing an extra blanket with sharing body heat. I lost track of time a while ago, the sun set before we even got in bed and our phones never made it to the bed either. It was just me and Seungcheol keeping each other barely on the edge of consciousness, laughing and whispering into each other. We were tangled up in each other and only kept getting closer every time one of us shifted.

I was tucked under Seungcheol’s arm and the conversation slowed a while ago. I honestly might’ve fallen asleep for a little bit at one point. But my eyes were slowly blinking open again and I was tilting my head up to look at Seungcheol. His eyes were barely open, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that passes over his face. His hair is lit up the silver that stylists must’ve been imagining when they dyed it.

My brain takes a second to process how lucky is must’ve been that the sliver of moonlight made it to Seungcheol’s face. That it had to find its way through the cloud cover, through all the skyscrapers outside, through the slats in the blinds and then between the bunkbeds to land perfectly like this, right over his face. That the earth and the moon had to be tilted just right. That we had to be in the exact building, in this exact bunk, in this exact city and be awake at this exact time to experience it. It’s stupid but I feel that we are favored by the stars then.

I walk gentle and tender fingers up his chest, to his exposed collarbone and he looks down at me soft and fond. I untuck myself from under his arm and turn around so we’re face to face, me up on my elbows looking down at him. I push his hair off his forehead and then trail my hand down until it’s cupping his cheek. He leans up to meet me before I can even initiate and there is no stuttering, no hesitation, no awkwardness. His mouth melts against mine and this is where I am meant to be and I can’t believe I’ve taken so long to get there. There’s an arm around my waist and he pulls me flush against my body and it is amazing all the ways that our bodies fit together—the gaps in our fingers and meld of our mouths and the easy way I settle in-between his legs. He licks into my mouth once, possessively and then leans back to look at me.

“It was that easy the whole time, huh?” He asks, quietly amazed.

“We had to wait for the stars to align.” I say half-jokingly and breathless.

His eyes glint and he’s playing along with me. “When’s the next time the stars line up for this then?”

“Now?” I guess, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “Tomorrow morning?” Another kiss on his pretty, high cheekbones. “Forever, maybe?” I don’t let him answer because forever is a long concept, one we haven’t even applied to the group. I kiss him instead, sliding hands inside his shirt, trying to avoid the promise I brought up. His skin is soft and warm (everything about Seungcheol is always soft and warm) and I want to explore all of it, every ridge and mole and freckle. But it’s so late and I’m so tired and I let my head rest against his chest instead, his heartbeat the most comforting sound I’ve ever heard.

“You think the stars will favor us forever?” He asks. “It’s a pretty concept.” He muses.

I feel hot and embarrassed at my own idea. “Save it for some lyrics.” I suggest to get away from it.

“Me? They’re yours.” He laughs, always making sure I’m credited, always making sure that my contributions don’t go unnoticed.

“Shut up!” Jihoon yells from the other bunk. “Shut the fuck up!” A pillow lands on top of me. “Rooming with you two is a fucking nightmare.”

Me and Seungcheol laugh at each other but quieter this time. There is still an arm around my waist and he tightens it protectively. “So tomorrow morning?” He suggests. I just press a gentle, butterfly kiss to his collar instead of answering and fall asleep faster than I ever have in my life. There’s a gentle thrum that connects all my dreams together, a metronome that sets the pace for the movement of the stars, the creation of galaxies, the swirl of clouds over the earth. It’s Seungcheol’s heartbeat. And I can’t believe something so comforting, so steady, so reliable creates such beautiful and unearthly things in my dreams.

++1. (bonus content)

Jihoon strolls into the kitchen late, a pleased smile curling perfectly on his little Grinch lips. Honestly, Jihoon looking _happy_ this early in the morning can only mean some terrible disaster is about to follow him into someone else’s life. It’s ominous and foreboding—his happiness, sometimes. I try to glue myself to my phone and avoid his gaze. He pours himself some coffee and slides right up to me, almost tucking his tiny body under my arm. And shit it’s me. It’s me he’s gonna ruin. He’s bringing disaster into _my_ life.

“You owe me money, Soonyoung.” Jihoon sing-songs and while his voice is beautiful and musical and I genuinely enjoy hearing it, at this time in the morning with something dark and sinister glinting in his eyes, it feels more like the nursery rhymes kids sing in horror movies.

“Oh?” I try to keep it neutral, try to save myself from whatever horror is coming my way.

“Yeah, Jeonghan and Seungcheol were all over each other last night and I _told_ you it would happen before the album was finished.” He smirks and the first description my brain provides for his face is “shitty little elf.”

“No,” I argue, forgetting that Jihoon is out here trying to ruin my life and not just win a bet, “Coups specifically told me that they _weren’t_ a thing like a month ago.”

“I _heard_ them kissing.” Jihoon insists. “It was fucking nasty, by the way.”

Jun turns from his spot on the couch, still within ear-shot of our conversation. “Jeonghan told me they were quote: ‘not lovers’ recently too.” He adds.

Jihoon stirs his spoon in his coffee sinisterly. “That doesn’t matter.” He waves off. “What matters is that they were absolutely kissing last night and the album still isn’t finished so Soonyoung owes me.”

I forget for a moment, how much danger I am in and just who I am dealing with because my sense of self-preservation is shit and I’ve always been reckless. “Yeah, that matters. We need proof.”

“Proof?” Jihoon looks incredulously at me over his coffee. “What kind of fucking _proof_? Do you want me to wake you up when I hear them fucking so you can _watch_?” He makes a disgusted face at the thought.

“You could just like… _ask_ them instead.” I suggest.

“You ask them if you want. I’m telling you they’re together and you owe me money.” Jihoon looks annoyed and dismissive. “By the way, when they end up fucking in our room I’m taking over your bed and you can sleep in my room since you thought they were so ‘cute.’” He puts air quotes around the word and looks absolutely disgusted.

I exploit our closeness and pull him in the by the waist. “I mean, we could just share a bed at that point, Jihoonie.” I coo.

Jihoon ducks out of my hold and takes his coffee over to where Jun is on the couch. “That was disgusting and you owe me more money now.”

I laugh because losing a little money is probably the best outcome of the whole situation. I open the wallet app on my phone and transfer some money to Jihoon because Jisoo was probably the only one that ever had physical bills on him in the group. And I don’t question Jihoon saying that Jeonghan and Seungcheol were together again even though I questioned Seungcheol when he said they weren’t. Because between the knowing glances and intimate touches we all knew where this was going.

**Author's Note:**

> woozi is just salty bc he's not getting enough sleep, i know he's not such a prickly boy all the time, the bonus content was entirely self-indulgent and just fun to write tho


End file.
